September
by soccerislife14
Summary: Ever wondered why Max was given the label as the bad cook in the Flock? Max recounts her story in this Song Fic to the song "September," by Daughtry. Takes place back in the E-House when Max is just ten. Miniscule Fax if you squint. R


"_**September,"**_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction

**A/N**_ Well, hello there. :) Long time, no write. I'm so sorry, you guys. Seriously. I'm working on the whole updating thing, so there is no point leaving reviews calling me an irresponsible writer. I already know that. Trust me, I'm trying to work around some stuff going on in my life right now. I have a busy life. But I'm on Fanfiction regularly. I haven't forgotten you all._

_So, basically, this is my first SongFic ever. I got the inspiration for it about when I was listening to my iPod before I went to bed, and I had to write it down. I hope you like it. It's from the song, "September," by Daughtry. It's on their new album. You really should check it out, it's a great song. _

_**Disclaimer: **__Nah, I didn't write Maximum Ride. Only James Patterson is capable of that kind of genius. I also don't own Daughtry, of course. Although I do own some lovely homework assignments that I'm putting off doing, just for you guys. _

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"**Of all the things I still remember  
Summer's never looked the same  
The years go by and time just seems to fly  
But the memories remain."**

***

I don't really have a lot of wonderfully happy childhood memories, in case you haven't noticed.

However, whenever I look back on the times that I was most happy, the times I cherish most, I look back to that one summer. The summer I found a home. Most of those pictures I come up from within my mind are blurry, out of focus, like an out of focus lens. But _that _one day, it just stands out for some reason. I don't know why. It's always been special, a day that I could easily recall.

I remember Jeb had rescued us from our worst nightmares over half a year before this happened. This was way back when I actually had some respect and love for him; the times when I thought of him as my absolute hero. He had to leave that day. I'm still not sure what it was for at the time. I still don't know – maybe some long lost errands. Like grocery shopping or something.

I was in my limelight, where I shined. I was left in charge for the time being, exclusively by Jeb. I was only 10 and a half, or at least, that's how old I said I was.

"Max, wake up, sweetie," Jeb said quietly from my doorway. I opened my eyes and propped myself up alertly. I suppose I've always had that fight-or-flight concept jammed in my brain since birth, and it just stuck. You kind of need it in my life.

Jeb pulled on his jacket, and ran his hand through his somewhat overgrown hair. "I'm going to need you to hold down the fort for a while. Can you keep an eye on the Flock while I'm gone?"

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes with my fists, and smiled. "Yes!" I exclaimed excitedly. I hopped out of bed, and walked towards Jeb. I felt so tiny next to him; my head only reached to his waist at the time.

He patted my sandy blonde head and said, "Thanks, Maximum. You're a good girl. Remember, stay away from the stove, and be careful. You know the rules."

"Yeah, yeah. No answering your phone, don't let Gazzy or Iggy get near any explosives, and keep Nudge and Angel in line. Got it."

"Good job. Now, stay safe! I'll be back in few hours." He then smiled my favorite smile and walked down the hallway and out the door.

Not really tired anymore, I walked down the opposite hallway. I looked at the clock: 8:15 a.m. _I_ was in charge. And so, that meant I had to make breakfast to feed the troops.

Keep in mind; this was _before _I got labeled at the worst cook imaginable. This was also the day that I got that label in the first place. I remember taking a recon of our kitchen supplies and then leaning against the cabinet and taking a deep breath before I began.

I'm not sure what I was trying to cook, exactly. Maybe pancakes. I think I wanted to make something just to prove that I could. I searched through the cabinets, trying to seem like I had done this before. It was kind of difficult, but I managed. I found the pancake batter – shake and bake, thank goodness – along with some milk and eggs.

I climbed up on the cabinet to get a big mixing bowl, and stirred my ingredients together. I turned on the stove, disregarding Jeb's former warnings of not to get near the hot burner. I could do it, I thought. I'm not your average kid. Heck, I have _wings. _That was what was going through my little mind.

I poured the batter into the pan, counting to myself. One…oh, that one was a little too big. Oops. Two…way too small. But oh well. Three….

I kept doing that until I had counted seven ill-shapen pancakes; one for each of the Flock, and one for Jeb. I didn't think to make extras. Jeb had taught Fang and me how to count a few months before. I wasn't amazing at it, but I knew the basics. I could count to over 100.

I watched the pancakes for a few minutes, and then I noticed something.

I had forgotten flour.

"Dang it!" I cursed to myself. I hastily searched through the drawers in the pantry until I found the small, heavy white bag. I dragged it out onto the floor, holding it by the top. That was probably my first mistake.

I lifted the bag onto the cabinet, trying to open it at the same time. Succeeding, I tried to pour a small amount onto the top of the pancakes. (Keep in my mind, I thought this would be okay. I'm no pastry chef here, people.)

And, of course the bag chose to completely come open right then with a huge _Riiiiip!_

I gasped. And white powder was all I could see for a while. I coughed and closed my eyes, which began to water. I tried to get it out, but it didn't work so well.

After the flour had settled down, I blinked my eyes and looked around. It looked like a winter wonderland, literally. Everything was covered with powder, including myself. Looking down, I saw that my (formerly) black sweats and navy t-shirt were completely white.

"Oh-no..." I moaned. Jeb was going to kill me.

I tried to take a step forward to get something – anything, really – so I could clean up the mess. And then I slipped.

And fell flat on my butt.

"Ugh!"

And then I heard somewhat muffled laughter coming from the kitchen doorway. I snapped my head around to stare, surprised, at a certain young bird-boy with dark hair and dark eyes, trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing at the scene in front of him.

Fang gained some control of himself, and said, "Wow, Max. Having some trouble?"

I blushed, and stood up, patting the stupid flour off me. "Shut up, Fang," I told him coldly. I turned around and looked for a dish towel. "I was trying to cook."

He replied, somewhat kinder this time, "You know, I could help you."

I faced him again and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I'm just nice that way."

I rolled my eyes and threw him a towel. "Fine. You have clean-up duty."

He stared at me for a minute. Then he started to look mischievous.

"Fang, what are you thinking? I don't like that look."

He raised his eyebrows, and looked at me innocently. "Well, you did say that I have clean-up duty…" He grinned. Then he pulled me onto his back so quickly that I didn't have time to register it, and ran down the hallway and out the back door.

It was the middle of September, but it was still rainy in Colorado. There were thin patches of grass outside in our yard, with a tree in the lower corner. You could hear the pitter patter of the rain on the roof, and Fang's shoes made squishy noises as he ran outside and came to a stop.

"What are you _doing?"_ I asked him, half laughing. He put me down and took a few steps back.

"Getting you clean," he replied. He gestured towards me and my wet clothes. "See?"

I glanced down at my white-covered sweats, rain soaking my long hair and dripping down to the ground. Except, my pants weren't tinted white anymore. All the flour had been washed off in the rain.

Fang was looking pretty proud of himself. His overgrown hair was drenched, falling funnily across his forehead, and his dark skin was glistening. He had his arms crossed across his chest.

I laughed. I loved Fang when he was like this. When he was my best friend, someone I could just be myself around.

"You know what, Fang?" I asked him playfully.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

I walked towards him and tapped him on the shoulder. "You're it."

Then I whipped my wings out and flew above him.

"You're going down, Max!" Fang yelled above the rain, but I could still detect the laugh beneath it.

***

"**In the middle of September we'd still play out in the rain  
Nothing to lose but everything to gain  
Reflecting now on how things could've been  
It was worth it in the end."**

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_Aww. I'm starting to love SongFics now. They're so much fun to write. Did you see that miniscule Fax in that?_

_I hope Max or Fang didn't seem too OOC. Keep in mind, they were only about 10 years old in this, so they're going to act a little differently. _

_Now, so you have it in writing: I, Soccerislife14, __**promise **__to make an honest effort to update more on Fanfiction. _

_Thanks for reading. You rock. _

_Yours, _

_-Soccerislife14_


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